Busy week. Here’s my version of “Bad Manners.”
Author: elraica
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Discovering the Madoffs
Of late, I’ve been feeling dry and uninspired (wonder if there’s an ointment for that). Anyway, I know this isn’t the best thing next to double stuffed oreo cookies, but its the first sketch in a while that I didn’t have to strap myself to the keyboard to write. I really didn’t know how to approach the topic this week. Since I barely understand the Madoff’s Ponzi scheme, I thought that it would be fun to see how kids might look at it. Eh. Or not. In any case, I had fun writing this.
[fountain]
INT. GIRL’S BEDROOM – DAY
A group of 10-year-old BOYS and GIRLS congregate in an obviously girlish bedroom. SUZY stands in the middle of the room draped in an adult-sized power pantsuit and pearls. JOHNNY and LISA stand around waiting for something to happen while BILLY, wearing an adult-sized grey button down shirt – complete with rolled up sleeves, tie, and a Wolverine battle claw – jumps up and down on the bed.
BILLY
What are we doing, again?Billy plops down on the bed.
SUZY
We’re playing house. I’m Ruth and you’re Bernie Madoff
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Hippie Diplomacy
Late again this week. Bummer. Here’s to the hippies! May they save us from nuclear annihilation.
[fountain]
INT. OFFICE OF KIM JONG IL – NORTH KOREA – DAY
Psychedelic SITAR MUSIC plays in the background as RAIN RIVER SUNSHINE-GRASS, a hippie dressed in traditional hippie garb (tie dye shirt, beads, fringe vest, Birkenstocks, long hair and beard, etc.) sits with KIM JONG IL and his INTERPRETER on the couch.
Surrounding them are about twenty PEOPLE engaged in bacchanalia. Some are getting down with orgies, others are circle-toking or dropping acid, while others are dancing with themselves lost in a euphoric state.
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Pirates of the Strip
Arrgh! Almost didn’t make it this week. But then I realized, like R.A., I haven’t missed a week since I started. Tryin’ to keep the streak alive.
Got this idea walking down the Vegas strip this weekend. It’s completely stupid and random. But I figured, why not?
[fountain]
EXT. LAS VEGAS STRIP – LATE EVENING
Over a dozen PIRATES, dressed in traditional pirate attire (puffy shirts, pirate hats, buckle shoes, eye patches, etc), stand on the curb handing out cards plastered with naked women to passers by. Over their attire, they wear orange vests emblazoned with “Wenches Direct, 1-800-YE-BOOTY.”
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Sell Me Lies, Sell Me Sweet Little Lies
So, my extensive apartment hunting has lead me to the realization that anytime you see “cozy,” “clean,” or “cheap,” run away… run far away. And don’t ever trust Mr. Hsu. At some point, I was actually expecting him break out with, “With a capital T, that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool.” A fine rainmaking, snake-oil salesman. This one’s for you Mr. Hsu.
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The Secret World of Dick
If it was politically correct, I’m sure he would be all over this…
[fountain]
INT. SET OF THE SECRET WORLD OF DICK CHENEY
MUSIC plays as DICK CHENEY, dressed in a technicolor CAPE and glitter bopper ANTENNA HEADBAND, sits on a chair in the center of a carnivalesque set replica of the oval office (crazy pinks and greens, oddly shaped furniture, polka dot wallpaper, etc).
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Stuck Between a Rock and a Bitch of Gurney
Okay, I’ll admit it. This week’s topic is my fault. I don’t know. Blame it on my vast (negative) experiences with the medical establishment and years of having a chronic illness. For some reason, I now find pre-existing conditions, snarky nurses, biowaste, and medical uncertainty extremely funny. Either that, or at this point, its all so distressing to me that all I can do is laugh at the insanity of it. In any case, had a lot to write about this week, so without further ado…
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God’s Worst Nightmare
How many stupid questions does it take to incite the rapture?
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The Line Between Mother and Other
So, what becomes of the women for whom Mother’s Day serves no purpose…?
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Bonfire of the Academies
So, I thought it would be fun to bring back Bob and Jim from my earlier sketch Basketball and Bullies… see how they’re doing in the world of novelty sportscasting. Last time it was third grade basketball, this time its fire, cornfields, and hammered, professional nerds. Oh, and by the way – yes, this really is what small town college professors do on the weekends. Don’t ask me how I know.